Listen closely, ye landlubbers, for I have a tale to tell ye that will put a chill in yer heart and suck the very marrow from yer bones. Aye, a tale of woe it is, and it concerns each and every one of you. Ye see, lads and lasses, ye’ve lost yer fire, yer creative spark. To put it in layman’s terms, yer powder has been doused, and yer cannons will no longer fire. What’s that? Ye don’t have the foggiest idea what I’m prattling on about? Arrrr! Well then let ol’ Cap’n Morgan enlighten ye.

Perhaps, in yer revelry — or shall we say, lack thereof — ye may have noticed a marauding band of pirates sailing down Welch Avenue on the second night of Veishea. If not, then rest assured, we were there, and such a thing did occur.

“Pirates?” ye say. “How absurd.” Aye, landlubber, we were absurd: so absurd that the very heavens should have shaken with mirth at the sheer ludicrousness of what we were doing. The band of surly brutes should have sailed down Welch with an honor guard of jolly students, caught up in the sheer excitement of doing something completely ridiculous. The wake of the good ship “Lobotomy” should have stretched all the way to her moorings in the Towers. But such, I am sad to say, was not the case. Nay, no such cheerfulness accompanied the “Lobotomy” on her maiden voyage, and, therefore, ’twas a dark voyage indeed. I blame you poor souls for the “Lobotomy’s” floundering. I ask this: What happened to ye? Has the oppressive hand of a domineering administration crushed the very life from ye? Or would ye really rather have the same sort o’ fun at Veishea, the supposed largest student run party in the world, that can be had at a junior high school dance?

What happened to yer spines? I’m afraid that ye’ve just given up. Admiral Administration has forced ye off the plank into shark infested waters, an’ ye just go with a sigh and a wave. Do ye honestly think that there’s no fun to be had without alcohol? Let me assure ye, the crew of the good ship “Lobotomy” was 100 percent sober, and ye may also rest assured that every mate in that jolly bunch had a blast. Face it, lads and lasses, Veishea was tame in comparison to the Veisheas of yore, and ye have no one to blame but yerselves. You heard the rousing cry of “ARRRRR!” and turned yer head the other way. But fear not, me buckos: our cry shall be raised again! Avast, lubbers! The good ship “Lobotomy” shall sail again!

Signed,

Captain Morgan

Cory Newbiggin

Sophomore

English